River
by Pumpernickle
Summary: Dean can say some mean things when under stress, and when Cas has been taking the brute of it, what happens when it goes too far?


I do not own anything.

**River**

Castiel did not know. He did not know of the way Dean loved him, if he did, then maybe he wouldn't have done this. However, he did not dothis exactly, it wasn't so much him as it was Dean, or God, or the disgusting demon who brought this upon team free will. It wasn't team free will anymore, it was more team free, the will was gone, replaced by gapping holes of pain, regret of guilt.

Dean did not know. He did not know of the way that Castiel loved him, he did not know what his words would do, he did not know of such pain of his absent father. He was experienced in the field, but Cas beat them hands down. Guilt was all that seemed to fill his insides. He did not know what time to go, to leave the dirty motel and actually look for himself, he did not know that he would find what he was looking for in Castiel. He did not even know to look for Castiel.

More importantly, Sam did know. He knew of the love they had for each other, and he knew that Castiel, with his social awkwardness would never be able to start this. He also knew Dean would not. Dean just pushed it further away, using spitefulness and words laced with hate to distract his true meanings. Sam knew that when Dean sat on his bed, looking terribly pained, that he did regret those words, the words laced with hate and pure revulsion. He knew Dean hated how he acted, he knew he hated the way that Castiel walked out of the door, how he hated the way that Castiel _had_ to walk out of the door, knew how he hated how it was his fault that the angel was less than that now, how he hated the pained looked on Castiel's face, of betrayal and loss and hurt, but really, Sam knew, that Dean hated himself. Sam knew too, that while Dean was here tearing himself to shreds, that he should be looking for Castiel, but more importantly, it should be Dean looking. They could hear Castiel's back hit the door, and his figure sliding down the wood, they could hear the barely audible sob he chocked on and accidentally let fall though his trembling lips, and they could hear Castiel stand and run, his heavy feet pounding on the cement through the rain.

What they did not hear, was the monster, that was thrilled to be a witness to the broken angel, follow Castiel through the storm.

They were in a secluded inn, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, trees and state land all around. They moved later, when Sam had told Dean that Castiel was probably catching hypothermia in the storm. It was then that Dean realised how long he had been gone. Almost an hour. He stood and instantly ran to find his angel. _His_ angel. He intended to apologise, something he rarely did, and tell him of his reasons, his justifications of his actions, his feelings.

They had to travel on foot. They ran in the direction that they heard Castiel's feet pounding away, the scoured every inch they could see. They found his foot prints, they saw where he had slipped and fallen, they saw the blood left on a fallen log he had tripped over in the forest. They saw his silhouette in the mud, where he had tripped, and the mud mixed with blood on tree trunks, used as leverage or for balance. They moved faster, following his tracks as they continued deeper into the woods.

Castiel ran as fast as he could, his face was numb with cold as the night air stung against his cheeks covered in rain mixed with tears. He ran until his feet refused to hold him up, and he continuously tripped, something that would have previously been impossible as an angel, but now he was reduced to a pathetic bundle of emotions that willed for him to explode. He found himself forever reaching for trees, and he saw his body torn and bleeding and refusing to heal. Every time he saw the blood, it reminded him of a painful apparition of a darker world that noone should know, of monsters that were supposed to exist only in childrens nightmares, of brothers that hunted him, of his failure to protect his charge, of Dean Winchester. He was vaguely aware of someone following him, but he cared not, he cared not of what happened to him, for the words stung him, Dean Winchesters words, in whom he held ultimate faith and love, the words stung with unimaginable pain, and he just wanted a release. Sobs and cries fell freely from him, short screams and pain shooting through his throat and gut, reminding him continuously of the pain and emotion he had received form this. He wanted to go back, not necessarily to the Winchesters, but to the bed which he had grown to need, to seek comfort in the layers of thick cloth, to use it as a shield.

Dean did not know. He didn't know that he had missed the screams of pain, or the cries for help, cried by the one he loved, for some release from this terrible place. He did not know what the words would mean to him from then on. He didn't know the relevance, the importance those words held, the effect they caused.

Sam didn't know either. Sam knew of the pain his brother caused Castiel, he knew of the way he was treated, as a tool, as nothing to be worried over, as something replaceable. But he didn't know how much Dean had hurt him, how much damage he had caused to Castiel's once bright soul, the soul that once shone brightest in Heaven, the youngest angels soul, the naivety of the angel, the angel that fell in love with a human.

But they both knew, when they came upon the rocky stoned river that they did not know Castiel behind his shield. The shield he put up to protect the ones he held dearest, the shield that hid his feelings, his thoughts. They didn't notice the cracks in the shield, the things that cut to deep to ignore. They both instantly went into denial when they saw the tan floating atop of the ice cold river, the souls of the shoes that floated half in, half out of the water. The almost black hair that floated and bobbed in the distilled water, signalling the back of Castiel's head. They denied the blue of his face as they dragged him from the numbing river, they ignored the cold of his skin, which was just as numbing as the water it had lain in. But most of all, they refused to look in his eyes, the once striking blue replaced by a dull, light blue, almost grey-white. They ignored the respect you pay to the dead, as Dean placed his lips over Castiel's and tried to breathe life into him, and as Sam beat on his chest, trying to force his heart to pump the frozen blood through his veins, in futile attempts to bring him back. They almost missed the low chuckle that could be heard over the current of the river. Almost.

They looked away quickly to see a figure on the other side of the river, eyes darker that onyx. And he had the dexterity to speak.

"He wanted a release", He began, "_He begged _me for a way to stop feeling, to numb the pain. That is how much you twisted this angel, the angel that gave up everything for you."

"You Bastard," Dean whispered, "YOU KILLED HIM!" He yelled.

"No, no. Dean. I did not kill your angel. He killed himself, I simply provided him with the way." And with that he brought his hand up to his face and clicked his fingers. Dean could not have expected worse.

Before them, Castiel, an image of him at least, stumbled into the small clearing around the edge of the river. He pulled further forward, kicking his way through the pebbles and into the water. His face was destroyed, his eyes were red and his features were contorted into a depressed expression. He fell to his knees in the water and looked to the sky, his body shuddered and bounced as he was racked with hurt and betrayal which bubbled to the surface through tears and thick phlegm, cries pouring from him and into the air, thick with sorrow. He turned his head towards the body he had heard following him, saddened further when it was not Dean, but of course not, Dean did not care for him, not after what he said, how could he ever believe that he had. He looked at the demon behind the humans mask. At least he could understand him a little more than a human could.

"Please," He chocked out, "Please help me.."

"Help you, my dear angel, you do know who I am, or what I should say", he chuckled lightly

"Please, " He repeated, "I don't want to feel, I don't want to feel anything, not anything anymore" The demon raised an eyebrow at this, "Please.." what a rare occasion to see an angel _begging_.

"Are you sure?" The demon actually felt sorry for this poor bastard, why is it that the Winchesters always seem to ruin everything. Castiel just nodded.

"Yes, Please, I ... Just ... Please, help me. Make it stop." He sobbed, his voice was barely audible between his sobs and the constant thrumming of the rain.

"Of course. Look, if you want it to stop, just go, further into the river I mean. Under the water and stay there. You will die, but you wont feel anymore." Castiel appeared to just stare at the demon, as if that was a terrible idea, and he chocked on his words until he was finally able to speak.

"Thankyou.." He whispered, and he turned and faced the water before he plunged himself into its depths, welcoming the numbing sensation that covered his body.

Dean was in shock for all of two seconds. That was until he realised exactly what he had done, he had killed Castiel. Caused him to commit suicide. It was his fault, and as he spilled words of love and sorrow for Castiel as he hung limply in Dean's arms, all he could think of was the last words he said to him.

_"Where's my pie?" Dean was agitated, he wanted his pie now._

_"Uhh-" Castiel did not like it when Dean was agitated, he became rash, often speaking harsh and without thought._

_"Cas, where is my Pie?"_

_"I forgot it"_

_"You forgot it?"_

_"Yes"_

_"How could you forget my pie"_

_"A lapse in my memory I suppose"_

_"Being smart huh? That is it! You disgust me."_

_"Dean I-"_

_"You are an abomination! Your not an angel, your not even human, what does that make you, in my books, that makes you nothing! You cant help more that a five year old child! At least they wouldn't go on a binge when they couldn't find their Father! And they wouldn't bash the people they know! They could remember to get a __**GOD DAMN PIE**__! You fell from Heaven! You are no better that Lucifer! You are nothing!"_


End file.
